


Little Green Monster

by DistractionReaction



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Character headcanons, Halloween fic (sort of), M/M, Necking like highschoolers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:00:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2602736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractionReaction/pseuds/DistractionReaction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jack got Jealous over Bitty, and one time Bitty did something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Green Monster

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read Check, Please! yet then you have made a grave mistake. Ngozi is the proud owner of all of these fabulous characters, and you should pay her wonderful webcomic a visit right over here http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/. 
> 
> I took some liberties with my characterization, but I'm hoping things aren't OOC. Aaand I self-beta, so there may be some mistakes. Haha, yeaaah.
> 
> Also I rated it "M" as a precaution, but there's no explicit sexy times, so I'm sorry if I've lead to disappointment of any sort.

**1.**

Eric is engaged in full blown combat with egg whites and cream of tartar in his good, stainless steel mixing bowl when a head pokes over his shoulder. 

“ _What’s that?_ ” 

“ _Oh_ -” Eric just about drops the whole damned concoction but a hand shoots out to brace the bottom of dish before it upsets. He lets out a hard breath, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance at the figure behind him. “ _Jack_ , lordie, someone needs to get you a bell.” 

Jack rolls his eyes and releases his grip on the bowl, leaving Bitty scrambling to catch it once more. “Or maybe you should try being more observant.” 

“I’m observant.” He counters, before wincing at Jack’s incredulous look. “Mostly, sometimes…” 

“Right.” The captain shakes his head, before leaning forward to stick his finger into the edge of the bowl, tipping it slightly to peek. “This doesn’t look like the stuff you normally make…new recipe?” 

“Macarons, on request. My culinary expertise has been challenged and I have a reputation to protect.” Eric swings the bowl away, sticking his tongue out slightly. He gestures towards the counter, where the first batch sits, waiting to be packaged. “Round one was pistachio, now I’m going for raspberry.” 

“Mm, I could do with some Macarons.” 

“ _Ah, ah, ah!_ ” Eric swats his hand and tuts. “Those ones are for the Frogs.” 

“ _Oh._ ” 

Bitty glances up in time to see Jack’s expression darken slightly, his mouth set in a hard line. “Right, I’m sure they’ll love them.” 

“Wh-” Blinking Eric watches him turn to leave, confusion creasing his brow. His heart seizes in his chest and he takes a few aborted steps forward. “Jack wait, I’m making more!” 

The captain’s gone before he can get out another word and he’s left standing in the middle of the kitchen, wondering exactly what he said wrong.

\--

Later, when Jack neglects to emerge from his room for dinner, Eric brings up a small box of his last batch of Macarons as a peace offering. He sets them just outside the room with a note; _Maple Flavoured_. Then, with a hard breath, he knocks and scurries away.

The next morning he finds the same piece of paper taped to his door. Scrawled underneath his own, neat print is a simple message: _They were good_.

**2.**

Eric blinks blearily at the ceiling when he finally peels his face up from the sweat damp pillow beneath him. His head aches in sharp protest at the trickle of light that drifts in through the window and his back twinges painfully when he tries to sit up. 

For one dizzy moment he can’t figure out why his bed is so damned uncomfortable, but then he rolls over and looks down at the hard wood floor beneath his hands and knees. 

_Oh_. 

He slowly eases back to sit on his heels, staring down at the yellowed pillow and ancient, scratchy blanket that he must have grabbed from the linen closet at some point in the evening. 

Not that he remembers. 

Well, he does remember some things. Flashes of faces, Shitty and Lardo dragging him into the kitchen for a shots competition, playing beer pong with a bottle of wine-

He doesn’t remember going to bed…or rather passing out on his bedroom floor. 

_This is his bedroom, right?!_

Panicked he glances around, the hard vice across his chest relaxing when he takes in familiar books and posters scattered throughout the room. However, there’s still no good reason for him to have ended up on the floor. 

Unless…

He glances over towards his bed, his heart leaping up into his throat. 

There, perched on the edge of the mattress, bare back to him, is the very delicate shape of a girl. A girl who is most definitely not Lardo…and that is a problem. 

Eric slowly drags himself to his feet, his stomach lurching up into his throat when the full brunt of his hangover hits him. 

He swallows back bile with a scrunched up face and resists the urge to gag. He barely manages to focus long enough to make out the second figure, curled up on the far side of the mattress. She’s at least wearing a shirt, but he can see the outline of pink underwear poking out from beneath his bed sheets. 

With a high gasp he slams a hand over his eyes, cheeks flushing red. 

Sexuality aside he is still a southern gentlemen, and he will _not_ be caught peeking. 

Slowly, gingerly, he turns around, stumbling to the bedroom door while he struggles to recall the night before. 

It’s taxing to move through the agony that has become his skull, which pounds constantly with each step he takes out the door and down the hall. 

There are voices downstairs, which means that somehow other members of the haus are _awake_ at this godforsaken hour. Or he assumes it’s a god forsaken hour. Really he has no idea. 

He clutches to the railing and eases himself downstairs, eyes scrunched up and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

When he finally stumbles into the kitchen he’s pretty sure the light’s going to blind him. Making a pained noise he covers his eyes again and holds to the doorframe like a lifeline. 

“ _Bitty, you’re alive_.” 

He recognizes the voice immediately and snaps to attention. 

“ _Lardo_ -” Eric stumbles forward, half-blind, until he reaches the back of the chair she’s perched in. 

The manager shoots him a raised brow when he finally manages to peel his eyes open again and pats at his hands. “There, there.” She assures him with a laugh, and he has no idea how she’s this awake after the amount of shots they were doing the night before; but she just sits there, pretty as a picture, beaming and even chattier than normal. “Shitty’s not even conscious ye….” She trails off and gives him a once over, brows furrowed, “ _Bitty, where are your pants_?” 

There’s a chuckle somewhere in the room, the sound deep and familiar, but Eric’s vision swims when he turns to look. He closes his eyes and tries to force himself to focus on Lardo at his front, fighting back the hard flush of embarrassment that stains his cheeks.

“I’m not wearing any?” It’s mostly a question and when he finally gathers up enough strength to look he finds that yes, he is in fact, pants-less. At the very least his boxer briefs cover…enough? “ _Oh_ , right. Well-”

He groans and drags a hand over his face, half draped across the back of Lardo’s chair. “ _That’s not important._ ” 

“Not-” She splutters and turns to stare at him over her shoulder, “ _who are you and what have you done with Eric Bittle_?” 

“Lardo you _don’t understand_.” He knows very well that he’s whining, and that they have company in the room, but he’s too hungover and distressed to care. “I have no memory of last night, and there are two strange women in my bed-” 

There’s a loud sound across the room and Lardo’s attention whips away from him. “Woah! You okay there Cap?” 

Eric freezes, a strange sense of dread hitting him like a punch to the chest. He forces himself to look across the room, eyes meeting Jack’s where the captain is hovering by the sink. His hand is open, a book lying at his feet where it slipped from his fingers. He’s staring at Bitty, his expression a strange mix of confusion and…something Eric can’t quite place. 

It’s gone as quickly as it came and Jack’s face turns stormy. He bends down to scoop up his book and Eric finds himself moving towards him, panicked. 

“Jack-” 

He reaches out, but Jack just brushes past him, bee-lining towards the door with a brisk “ _Excuse me_.” 

Eric spins on heel to watch him go, nearly losing his balance when his stomach clenches and his head swims with pain. There’s no way to be certain, but he would swear up and down that was _hurt_ in the captain’s eyes. It’s enough to leave him reeling and suddenly it’s not just the hangover that’s making him ill. 

“ _…llo, earth to Bitty!_ ” 

“He’s mad.” The words slide out of his mouth before he can stop them and he slowly turns to Lardo, distressed. “He’s mad, why’s he mad? What did I do? Is it because of the girls-thing? Oh god, what if he thinks I took advantage of them…” He trails off, a terrifying thought sliding through his mind, “What if… what if I _did_ take advantage of them?” 

The loud, hearty laugh that meets him in response startles Bitty so hard he just about falls over, grasping at his pounding head. “For the love of- Lardo this isn’t funny!” 

“ _Yeah it is_.” She gasps, clutching at her chest.

He flushes red, crossing his arms and jutting his lower lip out firmly. “Well, it’s not _that_ funny.” 

“Okay, okay,” Lardo sucks in a hard breath, chasing away the chuckles that still wrack her frame, “I’ll bite. Did you, _Eric Bittle_ , get into bed with those two women last night?” 

He stares at her, blinking. “Uh, no? I think? Or, I was on the floor, so…” 

“Did you wake up with any hickies? Panties across your room? _Other signs_ of doing the nasty?” 

He cringes at the thought. “ _Of course not!_ ” 

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Lardo shakes her head and clasps him across the shoulder, leading him towards the fridge. “Let’s wait until they wake up before we start jumping to conclusions hm? Either way I’m sure they’d more than appreciate a hot breakfast when they peel themselves out of bed.” 

“Yeah.” Eric swallows through the wave of nausea that’s gripping him and smiles at her. “No lie though, m’ gonna need your help, cause there’s no way m’ standin’ long enough to pull off a decent brunch.” 

“ _Fair._ ” 

\--

Eric ends up sitting through half of the breakfast prep, but Lardo’s more than competent enough to handle the brunt of the work alone. It’s a quiet affair, Lardo apparently having used up her small-talk quota for the moment. 

The mystery girls roll themselves downstairs eventually, Ransom and Holster following at their heels. Their expressions are a mix of impressed and thoroughly confused when the ladies immediately flock to where Eric’s kneeling on a kitchen chair, dutifully minding the pancakes on the stove. 

The girls are incredibly sweet to him when he sheepishly admits that he can’t remember jack shit from the night before. As it turns out they’re a couple (five years going strong) and bonded with Bitty when he stepped between them and some rando freshman from the engineering faculty. Mr. “I don’t take no for an answer” had been propositioning them for a threesome all night, before Bitty came peeling through and ran interference long enough for the girls to duck away. Once they found him again they became what Ransom and Holster would dub as insta-friends. Chatting away, they’d stayed well past the end of the party, and when they told Eric where they lived he’d insisted they stay the night. 

His original fears were completely unfounded, and as an added bonus, he had executed a good old fashioned display of southern hospitality. 

Beyond relieved, he happily serves them a hearty breakfast.

Lardo, as it turns out knows one of them from class, so she chats with them sparingly in a friendly tone. Even Ransom and Holster, despite their own rough appearances, do their fair share of entertaining. They manage to push through their hangovers and launch into an educational rant about hockey, which the girls seem to really enjoy. All in all, the meal is surprisingly pleasant. By the time the pair are heading home, Bitty’s number in their phones, he’s starting to feel a little bit more human. 

Not that he’s ever going to let himself get that drunk again. 

Yeah, he’s looked at his life, and at his choices, and for the sake of his liver there are some things that just don’t need repeating.

By the time Shitty comes rolling downstairs, dragging a reluctant Jack in his wake, the girls are long gone. 

Not that that stops a star-struck Ransom and Holster from scrambling up and spouting on about Bitty and his new lesbian friends. Eric’s rolling his eyes and informs them politely that they don’t need to qualify the “friends” with “lesbians” when he catches Jack’s eye.

The captain’s expression is almost unreadable and he stutters out some half-baked excuse before he turns on heel and flees back up the stairs. Eric’s terrified for a moment that he’s somehow made him mad again, but Shitty just comes up behind him and claps him across the back, reassuring. 

“Not mad Bitty,” he assures, ruffling his short blond hair, “just embarrassed.” 

He feels a bit better after that, but he still swears up and down that he’ll never get that unreasonably blasted again.

**3.**

“ _Is that even English?_ ”

Dex laughs and reaches across the table to poke at Eric’s forehead, grinning. “Aw Bitts, we straining that sweet southern brain of yours?”

“Oi.” Eric scrunches up his nose, eyes crossing to glare up at the digit pressed firmly to his brow. “Keep it up. You’ll see how sour I can be.” 

“I thought nice was like, your permanent setting, or something.” Chowder chides even as Dex lowers his hand with a chuckle. “ _Ah_ , not that I am doubting you. Maybe just a little. Okay I’m doubting you.”  
   
“ _Betrayal_.” Eric states accusingly, and at Chowder’s responding shrug he shakes his head and drags his text-book up to his nose, raising his eyebrows at the pair from across the table. “Why do I study with you two anyways?” 

“Psh study, who are you kidding? You’re here to procrastinate by tweeting about our hilarious commentary.” Dex shoots back. 

“Procrastinate? _Me_?” Eric lets out a mock gasp despite the fact that he, predictably, has twitter open on his phone in his lap. “I’m hurt Dex, positively _wounded_.” 

“ _You’ll get over it, I’m sure._ ” 

Their conversation devolves into talk about their teammates and Bitty listens with an easy grin, posting bits of conversations to his followers on occasion. 

They’re almost three hours into their impromptu study-session when his phone goes off. 

_Where r u? Free for cooking lessons?_

It’s Jack, and Eric can’t help but grin. Their culinary project for class has given him some great opportunities to drag their stress-ball of a captain into the kitchen for a break from all his pre-season brooding. 

_I can be! With Dex and Chowder atm, just studying…ish._

He sets his phone down and starts gathering his stuff up, fully planning on making the trek back to the Haus, when his phone goes off once more. 

_Oh, nevermind._

His eyebrows pinch together into a tight frown and he punches out a quick response. 

_It’s no big! Was on the way home anyways._

This time he waits, scowling down at the phone until it chimes in his hands, a new speech bubble popping up across the screen. 

_Don’t worry about it. I’m going out._

“Damn it all Jack Zimmermann.” He grumbles under his breath, muttering about _enigmas_ while he haphazardly shoves his things into his shoulder bag. “Sorry guys, I gotta go.” 

“Oooh, you tick Jack off?” Dex leans over the table at him, his voice low and conspiratorial.

Again. By _existing_. Eric bites down on the urge to sigh and simply waives at the pair. “I’m just gonna make sure he’s okay.” 

“Sure thing Bitty.” Chowder calls out behind him, before starting to ramble. “You make sure he’s not too mad, last thing we need right now is a peeved off captain. Does Jack even have a setting that isn’t mad? He’s usually got this mean look on his face and I was never sure if it was just because of me, like because he finds me annoying or something, because I can be kind of annoying, but at least he does it to you too Bitz cause you know him better and-” 

“ _Chowder, dude, stop. Breathe. You’re turning purple-_ ” 

Eric tunes out their conversation and beelines for the door, hoping he can make the speed-walk across campus before Jack sees fit to vacate the Haus. 

\--

Sure enough, when he gets home their dutiful captain is nowhere to be found. He goes around the Haus, checking all the rooms, before finally giving Shitty’s door a knock and asking if he’s seen him. 

“He’s just being a dick right now.” Shitty says by way of explanation, then adds quietly, almost as an after-thought, “ _stupid thing to get jealous over anyhow_ …” 

The words strike a chord in Eric. Suddenly feeling a rush of embarrassment he excuses himself, scurrying back through the Haus to his room. He pauses before he ducks inside, glancing to the door across the hall with a slight stutter in his chest. 

Then he firmly reminds himself that this is not a romantic comedy. This is real life. 

And there’s just no way that _Jack Zimmermann,_ of all people, is jealous over him. 

**4.**

_Dude. He’s hot. Promise._

Eric glares at his phone where it sits on the arm of the couch and sinks back further against the cushion behind him. It goes off again, vibrating violently with the next series of texts. 

_Smart._

_Well smart enough_.

 _And he plays baseball!_

Against his better judgement he snatches up the phone before it has the chance to vibrate right off of the edge of the couch, texting back fiercely. 

_Holster_.

_Think of the arms bitz_

_Holster no._

For the most part they don’t play this dating game anymore, but on occasion Holster makes a gay friend who he deems, and this is a direct quote: “cool and attractive enough for our Bitty bro.” Needless to say he then spends the next few hours spamming Bitty with his attempts to set them up. 

_He’s ace at bat. just wait till U see his obliques._

Eric feels himself flushing steadily and scowls at his phone. 

_OMG Holster. What even._

_U need pics. Imma send you pics._

_Don’t u dare._

Eric nearly jumps out of his skin when the next text chimes in with a full portrait photo of a man’s finely sculpted chest and stomach. There’s no shirt, the waistline of his pants dipping down uncomfortably low beneath the sharp ‘v’ of his defined hips and-

“ _Oh my god._ ” 

He fumbles with the device and it slips from his hands, landing on the floor with an echoing ‘thump.’ He glares at it accusingly.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” His hands shoot up to brace his face and he slowly drags them over his eyes. “Why does he even _have_ that on his phone!?” 

“ _Everything alright in here_?” 

A voice from the door snaps him out of his horror and he quickly jolts around to see Jack strolling in towards him. “I heard shouting.” 

“Uh-” _Eloquent Bittle, incredibly eloquent_. He scratches at the back of his head and lets out a nervous laugh, “my phone just sort of got away from me, so-”

“Oh?” Jack smiles, eyebrows raising while he glances to the phone on the ground. “Let me get that for you.”

“Ah! No worries, I can-”

“Seriously it’s no big deal, I got it.” 

“ _Wait!_ ” 

It’s too late, Jack’s got the phone in his hands, the screen still lit-up merrily with the glaring torso on the screen. The captain’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression starting as shocked, before slowly narrowing into something akin to judgement. 

“ _Bittle_.” He slowly turns the phone back towards Eric, gesturing to the image on the screen. “Who sent you this?” ¬¬

“Uh…” For one horrible moment Eric isn’t sure if he’s going to throw his teammate under the bus or just lie shamelessly…though given the way Jack’s teeth are clenched, the truth is probably his best bet, “Hol…ster?” 

“ _That_ ,” Jack stabs at the screen with an accusatory finger, “is _not_ Holster.” 

“Aha, how can you be so sure?” Eric’s voice cracks and he scratches the back of his head nervously. 

Jack gives him a look that’s equal parts exasperated (as if they both don’t know exactly what Holster’s chest looks like) and concerned. “Bittle, why are you getting random pictures of naked men?” 

“Half-naked, and they weren’t solicited!” Eric squeaks out, pushing himself back further into the couch as if the cushions will swallow him up and spare him from the hard, judging stare of his captain. “Holster’s just-”

“Setting you up with strangers?” 

Eric shrinks under Jack’s accusatory gaze. “I wasn’t going to say yes.” 

“Then you won’t mind if I _delete_ this-” Jack’s attention shifts back to the phone and he starts tapping at the screen, a scowl marring his features. 

After a few moments of struggling Eric takes pity on him, leaning forward on the couch. “Open the menu on the bottom right-”

“I know where the menu is.” Jack protests, but the tapping slows and a moment later he makes a small victorious noise. “There.” 

He moves closer and Eric’s is painfully aware that there’s nowhere for him to go. He slouches down against the couch a little more, his heart stuttering slightly in his chest when Jack legs bracketed his knees, leaving him pinned in place. He clears his throat and forces himself to meet the captain’s eyes. “Uh, thanks?” 

Jack leans down, bracing one hand against the arm of the couch and sliding dangerously close into Eric’s personal space. He feels his cheeks heating up and swallows down the gasp that threatens to escape him. If Jack notices his discomfort he gives no indication, he simply reaches out with Bitty’s phone, tapping it against his forehead firmly. “No more naked pictures of strange men.” 

“Ah-” Eric blinks when his phone is finally deposited back in his hands. He glances up to Jack but the captain doesn’t move, still bracketing Bitty’s frame on the couch and staring down at him, expectantly. “Oh, right. No more pictures. Got it.” 

“Good.” Jack reaches out and cuffs Eric affectionately under the chin. He hovers there for a moment, before he seems to come back to himself and moves away. “I’m going to grab a coffee, you coming with?” 

“Uh, yeah, yeah sure.” Eric sits up, sucking in a hard breath and schooling back the flush burning his cheeks. “Just let me get my jacket.” 

“Right, I’ll be in the front hall.” Jack saunters towards the door, pausing long enough to shoot Eric one last, contemplative look. “And Bittle?” 

“Yeah Jack?” Eric pauses and glances up at Jack, his phone still clutched in his grip. 

“ _Tell Holster if he’s gonna send you shit like that, I’m personally deleting your contact from his phone._ ” 

\---

Coffee is actually…delightful. Jack sheds the cloud of gloom he’s been holding onto since pre-season started and chats with Eric in earnest. He’s downright charming when he means to be, and Bitty finds himself happily losing track of time. 

Two hot chocolates and a pumpkin spice latté later they’re arguing over who’s going to pay. There’s a full blown scuffle between them when they head to the till, Eric laughing and swatting ineffectively when Jack holds him back with one hand, practically throwing his wallet down across the counter. 

Eric’s beams when they leave, ribbing Jack about not letting him pay, but the captain grins at him, and mumurs a quiet, “Next time.” 

Bitty’s heart most definitely _does not_ skip a beat; but he does admittedly forget all about Holster’s baseball playing friend. 

**4.**

“ _Ready_?” 

“Yes?” Eric braces himself, but when Shitty steps forward he winces, backpedalling out of the way. “I mean no, no, not ready! Not ready!” 

“Bitz m’not gonna hurt you.” Shitty laughs and clasps Eric on the shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Gonna get you used to the feel, just like we talked about.” 

“Yeah, yeah I know just-” he makes a frustrated noise and lets himself fall back out of Shitty’s grip, bouncing on his bed with a huff, “I went stir crazy with that concussion, and I’m-” he swallows, gesturing vaguely with his hands, “I’m terrified it’s gonna happen again.” 

“Aww bitz.” Shitty plops down on the bed next to him, hooking an arm around Eric’s collar and dragging him down until they lay side by side against the mattress. It’s way too early to be up, and yet here’s Shitty, wide awake and being the freaking swasome friend that he is. “Y’know we have your back right?” 

Eric nods, staring up at the ceiling even as Shitty drags him closer in a one-armed hug. “I know…”

“ _But…_ ” 

“But.” He sighs, finally forcing himself to turn and glance over at the senior. 

“But you _need_ to learn to take a hit.” Shitty squeezes his shoulder and smiles at him, lounging back against the duvet. “S’why you asked me to do this, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” Eric can’t help but smile sheepishly, shrugging against the mattress. Watching Shitty and Jack wrestle (or rather, watching Jack kick Shitty’s ass) over the past few weeks inspired him to ask for an impromptu checking lesson; only this time with the safety and comfort of a bed at his back. 

“Still think you shoulda asked Jack.” Shitty commented, flashing him a knowing grin and extracting his arm from around Eric’s back. “Y’know he woulda said yes.” 

“Mmm.” He made a hesitant noise, rolling over to push himself up when Shitty moved to stand. “I don’t want to bug him too much though. What with pre-season an’ all…” 

“Jack’ll always make time for you Bitz.” Shitty shot back, tone teasing. He reaches out and takes Bitty’s hand, hauling him up off of the bed and onto his feet. “All you hafta do is ask.” 

Eric flushes red and gives Shitty a half-hearted shove. “Yeah, he’s a good captain.” He manages, scratching at the back of his head. “He always takes care of his team.” 

“Not what I meant and you know it.” The senior shoots back, and when Bitty just ducks his head and blushes harder he sighs. “Alright, alright I’m done teasin. Let’s get back to business yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Some ten minutes later Eric’s finally comfortable enough to take a solid hit from Shitty. The senior catches him straight in the shoulder, sending him sprawling bodily against the mattress. He’s winded for a moment and his heart is jackhammering in his chest, but he doesn’t black out… so that’s a bonus. 

“S’more like it Bitz!” Shitty reaches down to catch his hand and hauls him off the bed, catching him by the hip when he stumbles. “Now yer takin hits like a Wellie.” 

“Not quite.” Eric laughs and flushes at the compliment, scratching at the back of his head. “I still need to be able to do it on the ice.” 

“ _Do what on the ice_?” 

They glance over to find Jack by the door, his expression carefully neutral. 

Shitty instantly releases his grip on Eric, stepping to the side and shooting Jack a small smile. “Yo bro! Bitz here just asked for a little help with his body-contact ‘issue’.” 

“Did he now?” Jack eyes Shitty, his brows pinching together critically. “And you figured the _bedroom_ , at the crack of dawn, was the best place for it?” 

“Aha, yeeaaah I’m not touchin that one.” Shitty raises his hands up and stealthily maneuvers himself around Jack. “I just forgot I left…something…burning…in my room. Drugs. It was drugs.” 

“Ah, okay?” Eric blinks at Shitty’s hasty retreat, calling after him quickly, “Um, thank you!” 

He scratches his head at Shitty’s responding wave before the senior disappears down the hall, leaving him alone in his room with their dutiful captain. 

Jack eyes him, expression careful. “Practice huh?” 

“Yeah.” Eric laughs nervously and offers Jack a smile. “Er, hope it’s alright that I asked Shitty for help.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jack’s tone is neutral but his eyes are stormy, something like betrayal wafting off him in waves. 

Eric should leave it, he knows he should, but he pushes on all the same. 

“I dunno, you just seem-” he struggles with the word, “ _put off_? I suppose?” 

Jack says nothing at first. He clenches his jaw and stares at the wall just past Eric’s head. Then he lets out a sigh, the sound winded and long. “No, it’s nothing.” He scratches his chin and finally drags his gaze down to meet Bitty’s own. “Just… _why didn’t you ask me_?” 

Eric is completely taken aback, blinking at Jack with his mouth moving silently. “Oh, well-” he flushes hard with embarrassment and ducks his head a bit, “I just didn’t want to bother you s’all.” 

“You don’t bother me.” Jack all but snaps, before he manages to reign himself back in. He tugs at the collar of his shirt and lets out a sigh. “I’m your captain, helping you is kind of my job.”

“Yeah,” Eric licks his lips and glances up at Jack, offering him a small smile, “yeah I suppose it is.” 

Jack takes a step forward, moving until he’s standing just at Eric’s front. They’d be chest to chest if he was taller, but as is he’s painfully aware of how close the senior is, of the way he’s staring down at him, expression damned near _fond_.

“You know what?” Jack interjects suddenly, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning in over Bitty slightly. “Are you doing anything this morning?” 

“Beyond talking to you?” Eric laughs, praying he doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels. “Seems my impromptu lesson with Shitty is over, so I’m all yours…err, I’m free I mean.” 

“Good.” Jack smiles and takes a step back towards the door, and Eric could swear he sees a blush, if y’know, he allows himself to be that delusional. “Meet me downstairs in five with your skates and a sweater.” 

\--

Checking practice goes better than Eric ever could have imagined. By the end of the full hour they spend in the delightfully vacant rink he’s taking full blows without flinching. _Okay_ , so maybe a little flinching, but minimal enough to be a marked improvement. 

It’s still bright and early by the time they finish and Jack’s firm “You got this, Bittle” means more to Eric than he can express. 

They get coffee and chat about Jack’s past peewee coaching career. A hot, unidentifiable feeling burns in Eric’s chest when the Captain’s tone warms with nostalgia. 

Bumping knees companionably under the table the conversation turns to hockey strategy, and Eric finally starts to look forward to the impending first game.

**\+ 1**

_They won_. 

And not just by a hair either. 

They had a nice, juicy, two point spread to brag about, and it’s safe to say that the first game of the season was an incredible success. 

The team is pumped. Shitty’s dragging a beaming Jack around the party (but not before Bitty snags a selfie with him in full cat costume for twitter, his followers have needs, after all) , Ransom and Holster are playing some horrible drinking game called ‘ride the bus’ (which Eric wants absolutely nothing to do with), and Lardo’s busy drinking Dex and Nursery under the table. Poor chowder, on the other hand doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He’s practically vibrating at Eric’s side, alternating between beaming and laughing nervously whenever their team makes pass by, some pulling him into tight hugs and others cuffing him affectionately in the shoulder. 

“You’re wearin’ a hole in the floor with all that bouncin’.” Bitty teases, elbowing the goalie warmly. 

Chowder just about drops his beer at that, but manages a relatively painless recovery. Shaking foam from his hand he nudges Eric back, shrugging sheepishly. “Can’t help it, too pumped. We just won our first game. _Our first game_. I mean, I was so worried I could barely sleep the night before…and then there was all that talk about the couch being infected, which didn’t help my nerves any-”

Eric shudders. “Seriously. I swear, that thing will be _gone_ before the end of the year.”

“Good, because quite frankly it frightens me now-” Chowder makes a wild gesture towards the other side of the living room where two girls are perched on the bio-hazard in question, “those poor innocent women, they have no idea what horrors lie beneath those cushions. I feel somewhat responsible. I mean we’re just standing here, letting them expose themselves to the mystery rash-”

“I’m pretty sure the rash thing was a joke Chowder-”

“ _You can’t know that for sure!_ ” The goalie turns to him, grasping his shoulder with his free hand and giving him a light shake. “We could be responsible for a campus wide epidemic-”

The laugh Eric lets out is sharp and loud. He shakes his head and raises his tray of pies up, gesturing towards the girls on the couch. “Hey, if you’re that worried, maybe you should go talk to them.” 

One of Chowder’s many endearing qualities is the way his ears go bright red when he’s embaressed. Eric fights back a grin when the goalie ducks his head, scratching at his chin sheepishly. “I can’t just go over there. They don’t even know me, it would be weird. What if they think _I’m_ weird, what if-”

“Didn’t you hear Shitty earlier?” He chides, grinning at Chowder’s expense. “I think his exact description of you was ‘sex between two poles’.” 

This time the goalie’s whole face goes beat red and he ducks his head, gnawing on his lips nervously.

“Oh my sweet goalie child.” Eric laughs and grabs the crook of Chowder’s arm, leading him across the room towards the couch. “How about this? We go over there together, break the ice, then I go get myself another drink, hm?” 

“Yeah-” The freshman seems to relax somewhat at that, his braces catching slightly on his lips when he finally releases them, “yeah okay, I can deal with that.” 

Eric beams all the way through his brief introduction, happy to get the chance to do a little bit of pre-screening with the girls before he leaves the team’s most adorable asset in their clutches. They seem nice enough, and they’re sweet on Chowder almost instantly, so he leaves the goalie to it and makes his exit. 

Weaving his way back towards the kitchen isn’t easy; the crowds are thick and he’s trying his best to keep his tray from overturning.

“ _Lookin good Bitz!_ ” Ransom stops him half way across the living room, snagging two pies from him and shoving one unceremoniously in his mouth. 

“Oi! One of those better be for me!” Holster’s right on his heels, looking heartbroken when Ransom cups the mini-pie to his chest protectively. 

“ _Get your own_.” He manages through his mouthful. 

“Dude, _cold_.” 

“Here.” Bitty laughs, holding the tray out to Holster with a grin. “Got one right here with your name on it.” 

“Aww man Bitz, you’re the best.” Holster snags two for good measure, already strolling towards where Ransom’s waiting. “You sure you don’t want to join this next round of cards?” 

“Oooh no, not for me thanks.” He shakes his head and raises up his free hand defensively. “Y’all feel free to go ahead though.” 

“Alright, suit yourself.” Holster shrugs, stuffing a pie in his mouth and offering him a half-salute. 

“You keep rockin that dress Bitty!” Ransom calls over their shoulders, shoving his second helping in his mouth and beaming. “ _You look s’wawesome!_ ”

“Chew, for the love of god _chew_ before you choke!” Eric laughs out, shaking his head and continuing forward on his epic mission to the fridge. 

When he finally breaks free of the living room crowd he has to force himself not to be distressed by the state of his beloved kitchen. 

“ _In the morning Bittle, you can clean it in the morning._ ” He mutters, setting down his plate and finding himself shifting the empties strewn across the counter to clear a reasonable amount of space. He just manages to stop himself from starting on the dishes, settling for dropping the growing pile of pizza stained paper plates into the loose garbage bag on the floor. “Nope, not here to clean, here for beer.” 

Forcing himself to stop he turns instead to the fridge, marching over and determinedly ignoring his surroundings. He tugs it open, tries not to be disparaged over the amount of food that has been shifted into their usual beer fridge to make room for the alcohol, and snags himself a nice cold one. 

“ _Hey sweet thing, mind grabbing me one of those while you’re in there?_ ” 

Eric pauses, eyebrows raising, but snags another beer before he straightens. 

“Who’re you callin’ sweet thing?” He challenges, turning to face the newcomer while he edges the door shut with his hip. 

“ _Oh_.” The guy’s pretty tall, tanned skin, dark hair, and familiar in a way that Eric can’t quite place. “Oh. You’re a guy.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He can’t help but chuckle a bit at the guy’s confusion, strolling over to the counter and popping the caps off of both drinks. “You wouldn’t be the first to make that mistake tonight, and if my costuming skills are half as good as I _know_ they are, you certainly won’t be the last. Here.” 

“Thanks yo.” The guy accepts the beer with at least some grace, offering Eric a sheepish smile. “You do make a pretty convincing girl.” 

“Hey, when you’re the host at a Halloween bash you go big, or you go home.” Eric pauses, his drink half way to his lips. “Er, though I guess I’m already home. Ah well you get my point.” 

“You live here?” He moves closer and Bitty takes a step back until he’s leaning against the counter, staring up at him. “ _Oh! I’ve totally met you before!_ ” 

Eric blinks, confused. “You…have?” 

“Yeah, yeah totally! You’re usually blonde right? I’m a friend of Birkholtz!” 

“Birkh-” Eric frowns, tapping at his lips with the mouth of his beer thoughtfully. “ _Oh!_ You mean Holster!” 

“Uh…I guess?” 

“Sorry, team nicknames, we all have ‘em.” He extends his hand out, his smile friendly. “Name’s Eric Bittle, but here I go by ‘Bitty’.” 

“Nice to meet you Bitty, name’s Charles. My friends call me Chuck, but between you and me? I hate it.” 

He cringes sympathetically. “Yeah, I see why.” 

“ _So, how’re you liking Samwell?_ ” 

They launch into an easy banter, talking about their programs, the hockey team, and the coming winter weather. 

“I don’t know how northerners do it.” Eric shudders, rubbing his arm subconsciously at the thought of the first snow, just waiting around the bend. “I damned near froze my ass off last year while my teammates strolled around in sweats like it was spring.” 

“I’m actually from Southern California originally, so I kind of get your feel.” Charles has one hand braced on the counter at Bitty’s side now, leaning over him slightly while he nurses his beer. “We get a ton of wind, but rarely as much of the white stuff as I’ve seen here.” 

“Tell me about it, come winter I go into full blown hibernation mode. I can’t even drag myself out of bed in the morni-”

Eric cuts himself off short, catching sight of someone hovering in the doorway from around Charles’ side. “Jack?” 

The captain startles, looking trapped. Those damned ears on his head just make his eyes seem wider, mouth dropping open slightly. “Bittle, I just-”

He stops, swallowing visibly and turning on heel. “Never mind, _sorry for interrupting_.” 

“Jack!” Eric’s setting his drink down and moving forward before he can remember his manners. “Ah, Charles I’m sorry, I’ve got to-”

“No no, no apologies needed.” Charles waves at him in a nonchalant manner, already pushing off the counter himself. “You go check on your friend, I’ll head back to the party and get hammed.” 

Eric relaxes a little, but his feet are still itching to move after Jack. “Thanks for understanding.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Charles knocks back another long sip of his beer and flashes Bitty a wink. “Good talking with you. Go take care of your bro.” 

With one last nod and a smile Eric turns and practically dashes out of the kitchen, throwing himself into the thrush of warm bodies in the living room. He makes it half way into the crowd before he catches sight of the back of Jack’s head over at a table by the wall. 

Shitty’s with him, looking slightly concerned, hands braced across the captain’s back. There are half full liquor bottles spattered across the wooden surface. Bitty can see Jack reach for one from where he stands, and instantly he knows that this is it; he’s done with this game they’ve been playing, and it’s time for him to man up and _do something about it_. 

“ _Jack_.” He gets close enough to wrap his fingers around the captain’s elbow, tugging at him insistently.

“ _What?_ ” Jack all but snaps, jerking his arm away before he turns to look, his expression softening slightly. “Oh, Bittle.” 

“Yep, that’d be me.” Eric raises an eyebrow, nodding slightly to Shitty at Jack’s side. He gets a thumbs up in response before Shitty makes a stealthy exit, taking his cue without question. Now that they’re alone Eric can be more candid, so he leans in closer, trying to meet Jack’s eyes. “You okay?” 

“ _Why wouldn’t I be?_ ” Is the terse response he gets, and Jack’s flat out refusing to look at him. Instead the captain pours himself a shot, of rum no less. He takes it with a wince, sliding the glass back down across the table. “Where’s your new _friend_ anyways.” 

Eric barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. “This isn’t about him-”

“ _Really? Coulda fooled me._ ” It’s muttered under his breath but Bitty hears it loud and clear. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” He takes hold of Jack’s forearms, spinning him around and edging up on his toes to meet his gaze. “You and I need to talk.” 

Jack finally looks at him, but his expression is closed off, tight. “Talk about what?” 

“About _this_ for starters.” Eric gives him a slight shake, finally letting his exasperation filter through. “About you and me, and this weird, tense, awkward _thing_ that’s been happening between us lately.” 

“ _There’s nothing between us_.” Jack snaps, defensive and quick. 

The words sting. Eric tries incredibly hard not to take them to heart, but he flinches a little despite himself. He shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, releasing Jack and crossing his arms over his chest. “You sure about that?” 

It’s a daring move, to the point of dangerous, and Eric braces himself for the backlash. Surprisingly enough that’s not what he gets. 

“We’re not talking about this right now Eric.” Jack murmurs, scratching at the back of his head. 

“At this rate we’re never going to talk about it.” He objects, feeling brave. “We have time now, so why not?” 

Jack makes a frustrated noise and steps forward, lowering his voice while he looms over him. “Don’t push this _Eric_.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath at the use of his first name, fighting back a shudder. “Why? Because you don’t want to? Cause let me tell you something Jack Zimmermann,” he forces himself to continue, not even bothering to fight back against the flush of his cheeks, “I’m damn well sick of you juggling this cold shoulder routine with being sweet and caring and-”

“I’m not kidding you Eric, just let this go-”

“- one minute you’re smiling and treating me kindly, the next you’re storming out the door, and the thing is _I like you Jack_ -”

“Damn it, not here-”

“- but now you don’t even have the decency to tell me why-”

“ _You want to talk about this?_ ” Jack finally snaps, getting right up in Eric’s space. “ _Fine. We’ll talk._ ” 

He barely has the time to brace himself before Jack’s bending down, his shoulder pressing into Eric’s stomach. In one smooth motion the captain’s got him hauled up over his shoulder and Bitty’s left scrambling for purchase against his back. 

“ _Jack!_ ” He squeaks, fisting his hands into the black fabric of his shirt. “What are you doing!?” 

“Going to have a talk, _as requested_.” They’re raising some attention now, a few people glancing up to stare as Jack walks Eric towards the stairs. So far, thankfully, none of them appear to be part of the team…but that doesn’t do anything to quell the hot flush burning across his cheeks,

“This is not talking.” Eric hisses, dropping his face to bury it against Jack’s shoulder blade. 

“Nope, this is finding a better setting.” Jack doesn’t even put him down when they reach the stairs, just marches straight up them and Eric’s positively _mortified_. 

“A _better setting_. Jesus Jack you could have used your words.” He grumbles, but he’s stopped his squirming, just holding on tight with his cheek pressed to the muscled expanse of the captain’s back. 

“I can use words.” Jack readjusts his grip on Eric’s hips, hauling up back up off of his shoulder and setting him back down at the top of the stairs. “ _My room._ ” 

Eric finds himself spun around, Jack’s hands on his shoulders. 

“Alright, alright.” He raises his arms up defensively, moving down the hall with a tight flip of his stomach. 

They don’t say anything between the stairs and the room, walking in silence with the blare of music at their heels. Eric hesitates when he reaches the door but Jack comes up behind him, pushing it open and urging him inside. 

“So…” He scratches at the back of his head, letting out a nervous chuckle while he glances around Jack’s room. 

“You wanted to talk.” Jack points out. Bitty turns around in time to see the captain shut the door behind him, leaning against it and taking in a deep breath. 

“Yeah, I did, or _I do_ I just-” He’s stumbling over his world, nerves suddenly shot. He’s been in Jack’s room many times before, but somehow feels different. 

“No, no you’re right.” Jack pushes off the door, rubbing a hand over his face and making his way across the room. “I owe you an explanation.”

“Yeah, I would say that’s reasonable.” Part of him wants to take a step back (because he’s feeling hot and with Jack in his space it’s getting harder to breathe) but he holds his ground. He bites his lip, tipping his head up to meet the captain’s gaze. 

“Yeah, yeah it is, I mean-” With a sigh Jack comes to a stop at Eric’s front, his arms crossing over his chest. “I haven’t been fair to you these last few weeks, and- god why is this so hard…” 

“ _Is it something I did_?” 

“No! Or, sort of? I guess?” Jack’s raking a hand over his face, groaning. “I just…it-”

“It’s okay Jack.” Bitty steps forward, reaching out to smooth out a wrinkle in the captain’s shirt. “You know you can tell me anything right?” 

“Jesus Bitz.” The chuckle the senior lets out is strained. He reaches down, brushing his hand across Eric’s jaw. “You really aren’t making this any easier on me.” 

“Hey, I’m not trying to be difficult here.” 

“Oh, so what do you call our little interaction downstairs huh? You _not being difficult_?” 

“If you’d just tell me why you’ve been getting mad at me so often lately-”

“I’m not _mad_ Eric-”

“Then what?” 

“It’s…complicated-”

“Isn’t it always…” 

“It’s not like that Eric.” 

“Then what’s it like?”

“ _I’m jealous okay!_ ” 

Eric blinks up at Jack. They’re chest to chest, and at this angle he has to crane his neck to meet the senior’s gaze. “You’re-”

“ _Jealous._ ” His voice is quieter now, more reserved, and he’s flushed scarlet. “I just…every time I see you with the other guys, asking them to do things for you, baking for them, I can’t help but think: _that should be me_.” 

It feels like someone’s knocked the wind out of Eric. Wavering a little on his feet he subconsciously drags a hand up to brace over his chest. His heart is pounding up into his throat, a hard, hot thrub that pulses through his veins. “ _Jack_.” 

“I’m not used to this.” He continues, and Eric’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the heat of the moment, but he’s frozen to the spot. “My life has been hockey for so long and I’m…I’m not used to wanting something else so badly.” 

“Me…you want… _me_?” Eric pokes a finger at his own breast, disbelief warring with a cautious flare of hope. “You’re Jack Zimmermann. You’re practically famous, and your ass is like…a statistical anomaly, you can have whoever you want-”

“I don’t want just anybody.” Jack asserts, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “It’s you Eric, I mean…hell…it’s always been you.” 

Bitty’s heart is doing all sorts of crazy shit in his chest, but he can’t help the small bubble of joy that wells up his throat. “I never thought-” he brings a hand to his mouth to fight back the smile that’s creeping up his cheeks, but there’s just no helping it, “I mean, you just weren’t an option, y’know? You’re this big, unachievable thing-”

“ _I’m an option_!” The words come out in a rush and Jack turns bright red, ducking his head. “I mean…only if you want-”

 _Good god he’s adorable._ Eric chews on his lower lip and leans up on his tippy toes, picking at the collar of Jack’s shirt. “I, uh, I do. Want I mean.” 

“Yeah?” Jack sounds out of breath, his eyes drooping slightly and one hand coming up to brush away a stray hair from Bitty’s wig. 

“ _Yeah_.” Eric’s beyond glad to finally put a word to the weird heat that floods him whenever Jack’s around. He takes another step forward and now there’s barely a breath of space between them. “God we’re bad at this.” 

“So bad, so very very bad.” Jack drops his hand and sets it against his hip. “For two guys so graceful on the ice you think we would‘ve handled this with a bit more poise.” 

“Nah, poise is overrated.” Eric gingerly raises his hand up, splaying his fingers out across Jack’s chest. 

“ _Totally._ ” 

“So then,” leaning up further on the tips of his toes Eric gives Jack’s shirt a gentle tug, “you gonna take pity on me and bring your giant-ass-self down to my level or-“

That’s all he manages to get out before Jack’s surging down, bracketing Eric’s waist and dragging him close. At first their lips don’t fit together quite right, Jack catching him just at the corner of his mouth. They laugh and draw apart enough to slide together properly, and then it’s just… _fantastic_. 

With a gasp Eric pulls himself closer, arms sliding up around Jack’s neck. At first the kiss is chaste, the press of their mouths firm and constant. 

It’s perfect, so very Jack, and good _god_ is he great at this.

Eric really should have expected it. Jack's a man of simple passions, but he gave each and every one of them his all. Really though, how could he expect anything at this point. He’s still in disbelief that this is happening and-

That’s about when Jack drags a hand up to press against his jaw, thumb digging into the swell of his cheek. It’s safe to say Eric loses the ability to think. He lets his mouth slide open, a sharp noise escaping him when Jack pushes his tongue inside. 

The motion is questing at first, careful, before Jack becomes more bold. He flicks his tongue against the roof of Eric’s mouth before sucking his lower lip in between his teeth. The sensation sends sparks of heat down through Eric’s gut and he shudders, trying his best to keep himself on his feet. 

Dragging his hands down from where they’d been splayed across Jack’s shoulders he wraps them around his lower back. The senior hums out his approval and Eric feels brave enough to dip his hands lower, pressing them down over the swell of Jack’s ass. 

“ _Holy shit._ ” He startles out of the kiss, giving the hard muscles beneath his hands another, firmer squeeze. “Your ass is incredible.” 

“Eric, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before.” Jack reminds him, laughing and pressing their foreheads together. 

“Seeing and feeling are two _very_ different things Mr. Zimmermann.” Eric teases, but before he can grab at his butt again Jack turns them both around, backing Bitty up towards the door. 

“You keep that up and we’re going to have a problem here Bittle.” He warns, waiting for Eric’s back to slide up against the wood before he closes in. 

“Is that a…ah-” Eric’s head drops back and he lets out a groan, dragging Jack closer when he slides up to slot between his legs. The dress makes it somewhat awkward, but he really can’t bring himself to care…not when Jack’s got his mouth latched to the underside of his chin and is kissing down, down, down… “a _promise_?” 

“What do you think?” Jack makes a low sound in his throat and reaches down, hiking up the fabric of Eric’s skirts enough to get a hold of his thighs. He slides his hands beneath them and hikes Bitty up, pinning him to the door with the brunt of his weight. 

The noise Eric makes is positively embarrassing and the heat spikes in his gut, making the weight of his dress fabric almost unbearable. “God we have such bad timing for this.” He manages, reaching out to pluck at the tips of Jack’s cat ears, as if to prove the point. “I mean I’m in a wig for crying out loud.” 

“It kind of suits you though.” Jack teases, drawing back long enough to glance down at Bitty. His expression shifts and he suppresses a laugh, biting at his lower lip. “Though I think my whiskers are rubbing off on you.” 

“Wh- are you serious?” Eric’s only just noticing the way that Jack’s nose paint has smudged off to the side when the senior leans down again, nipping along the bottom of his jaw. “Oh, this is ridiculous. We’re ridiculous, I-”

Jack presses his hips closer and their groins slide together _just so_ and Eric could swear he’s seeing stars. The heat pooling in his gut is starting to bubble over, and his body is reacting in earnest. 

His hips jerk forward before he can stop them and he flushes crimson. Bracing his hands against the senior’s sides he squirms, trying to stop himself from grinding up against the hard expanse of Jack’s stomach.

“ _Wait_ , Jack wait, I’m-”

“Me too.” He groans out, dragging Bitty’s hips up further and grinding against the curve of his ass. 

“Oh god.” Eric jerks in a full bodied shudder, his breath catching hard. “ _Jack_ -”

And that’s about when the door pushes open from behind them. 

Jack immediately overbalances, his grip on Bitty’s legs dragging the smaller man down with him. Eric lets out a startled shout and just barely manages to get his hands behind Jack’s head as they fall. His fingers manage to soften the blow against the ground, though they sting with the brunt of the contact. He hisses out a sharp breath and carefully eases them out from the back of Jack’s skull, trying to let him drop back as gently as possible. 

“ _Shit_ , Eric are you okay?” 

“Yeah I’m fine I-”

“ _Jack dude what the hell are you doing in here the party’s only just starte- oh._ ” 

Eric doesn’t need to look to know who’s standing behind him, which only saves him the mortification of having to turn around. Instead he just lets out a pained noise and drops his head down against Jack’s shoulder. 

The captain sits up somewhat, Eric sliding into his lap while he moves, before he glares over his shoulder at their unexpected visitor. “Shitty, _out_.” 

“Woah man, didn’t see a sock on the door, was not my intention to interrupt-”

“Shitty-”

“Just makin’ sure your old ass wasn’t bailin’ on the party-”

“SHITTY-”

“Though in retrospect, knocking would have been the more bro thing to do-”

“ _Oh my god Shitty no_.” 

It’s Lardo’s voice that cuts in now and Eric’s dying of embarrassment, refusing to move from where he’s curled up, straddling Jack’s lap. 

“We were just leaving, right Shitty?” 

“Yeah, yeah right! You get it Bitty! We’re rooting for you.” 

Eric’s pained “ _oh god_ ” is muffled by Jack’s louder, more determined “ _Please Leave_ ” and then Lardo, sweet perfect Lardo, is dragging Shitty’s drunk ass out of the room and closing the door behind them. 

For a moment they sit there on the floor in complete silence, before a strange bubbling feeling wells in Bitty’s chest. Before he can place it a sharp giggle escapes him, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room. He tries to clamp down on it, but then the chest beneath his cheek is moving, Jack’s deep laughter chasing down his own. 

They stay like that, curled up and chuckling, before Bitty finally manages to drag himself up and away from Jack’s shoulder. “Dear lord, what is our life?” 

“I don’t even know.” Jack lets out a happy sigh, but his face his still flushed beat red. “God that was embarrassing.” 

“Just think of it as practice for the walk of shame we’re going to do to get back downstairs.” Eric teases, shaking his head and positively beaming. 

“ _Oh god_ don’t remind me-”

“Hey man, you’re the one who went all cave-man on me downstairs.” 

“You pushed me into that and you know it.” Jack shoots back, but there’s no spite in his tone.

“We can always put it off you know.” Eric soothes, reaching out to grab Jack’s cat ears, which flew off during their tumble. He carefully sets them back into place, giving one a quick flick. 

“Put what off?” Jack hums, wrapping an arm around Eric’s waist. 

“Why, our epic return to the party, of course.” He leans down and presses their foreheads together, sliding further into the cradle of Jack’s lap. 

“ _I do like the sound of that._ ”

\--

In their defence, it only takes them about half an hour to finally drag themselves apart and back down stairs (but not before they take the time to fix Jack’s cat make up and, of course, remove the rest of it where it’s smeared across Bitty’s chin). They get a few knowing looks, but Eric really can’t bring himself to care. He happily follows Jack into the kitchen, letting his captain crack him open a fresh beer with a bright grin. 

“Here.” Jack waits for Bitty to take one before he snags his own, clinking the two bottle necks together lightly. “Cheers.” 

“ _Cheers_.” 

They drink in a pleasant silence, listening to the pounding of the party around them. Jack nudges closer, pressing their sides flush together where they lean against the counter top. 

“Hey Eric?” 

“Hm?” He glances up, swallowing and dragging his bottle down from his lips. 

“You want to go out for dinner with me tomorrow?” Jack asks, before tacking on a quick, “Just you and me of course.” 

Eric grins, tapping his beer against his lips and looking up to Jack slyly. “Mr. Zimmermann, are you asking me out?” 

“Yeah,” Jack reaches out, adjusting a few strands of Eric’s wig. 

“ _Yeah, I am._ ” 

**END**


End file.
